Late morning. The sun shone through the small windows of the cabin, dimmed by the clouds, onto Thranuilas' figure, coiled up on the ground. He moved softly, still dreaming, and turned around in his sleep. The fire still burned brightly, warming him up.
A long wisp of his silky hair sled into his face, covering his eyes. The sensation pulled him out of his sleep, and he slowly opened his large eyes, blinking in the white light of the morning. For a moment, he had no idea what happened, and his mind was clouded. Where was he, even?
Then the memories returned, and he calmed down from the sudden confusion. He yawned, blowing the hair out of his face, and twisted his head aside, studying the interior of the cabin.